anyone lived in a pretty how town

snagret:

(via sublimefy)

Alright, I haven’t actually been here in a minute.

I used to keep a lot of things in my tumblr drafts. Drafts. Do you feel the wind coming in from under the door?

Jordan re-did their blog a little and still posts things there. 

Whiiiich reminded me that I might like to practice writing here sometimes. At least let my little ugly things breathe by poking a couple holes in the lids of their Google Docs or something. mwah.

bechdels:

are you trying to be normal so people won’t know you’re traumatized and angry or are you trying to be larger-than-life so people won’t know you’re vulnerable and needy

(via serotina)

magnesiumflare:

I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to to the person holding it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,
have my seat,” “Go ahead - you first,” “I like your hat.”

- Danusha Laméris, “Small Kindnesses" 

(via serotina)

fuckyeah2000s:

(via softrocklobster)